Spirit Who Could Be Broken
by TidalChanges
Summary: The short life story of a red dun stallion born wild. A cruel tale but with a happy ending.
1. Wild and Free

Spirit Who Could Be Broken

Chapter One: Wild and Free

I was born belonging to a world of green grass and endless skies, I knew nothing of boundaries, ages or limitations, only the wind, sky and earth below. This is my story of how it was all lost to me and what I found in return.

My father was a grand dun stallion, full sized and strong, my mother was a small bay mare whose eyes always shone bright with health and had never been the least bit hindered by the several foals she'd brought into the world since she was two.

Our herd was unusually large so we had to move frequently across the large, grassy range, not so much due to any shortage of food but just because anything edible was quickly trampled underfoot and why eat that when there were fresh pickings just out of reach.

It was, as far as starts to life go, an uneventful one. I never had trouble keeping up with the herd and spent my days, content to explore and gallop with my half-brothers and sisters, at night I never felt afraid or cold as I huddled behind my mother in the middle of the throng of horses. I couldn't have imagined a better life, but then nor could I, a worse one, I knew of nothing beyond the boundless sky and sea of sweet grasses. I would follow the eagles flying high but I always felt just as free as them, for what could possible await me in the sky, that I didn't have already on the ground.

That was my life, up until I had lived through each season twice, until the day came for my first lesson in the cruelty of life. There was a strange scent in the air that day, the mares were starting to work themselves up and the dun stallion was tense and overbearing as he moved through the herd. He would keep one ear constantly pricked and focused on the edge of the band, least an unwanted newcomer show their face. As it was, my mother was one of the first mares to start prancing around, reacting to the fresh scent of the change in season on the breeze. At this time of year, she wanted nothing to do with her youngest foal and I – who she had long since stopped protecting, could not even approach with a friendly sniff without a sharp squeal and lash of heels in response.

So I coaxed my younger brother away to graze and the distraction soothed his frantic efforts to be by her side. We nibbled the sweet grass of its tips and when the fancy took my brother, he came up to me and started raking his teeth through my mane and alongside my wither, naturally I started to return the favour when we were disturbed by an uproar between the great dun stallion and a half-brother of mine. I watched with disbelief as the black colt tried to turn back, licking and chewing in desperation several times before giving in and galloping from the only home he'd ever known. I trembled with the knowledge that this same fate awaited me and shifted to the edge of the herd in an attempt to avoid my father's notice. My brother chose to stick by me, and I appreciated his company and the feeling of safety having an extra pair of eyes close by brought.

If my caution brought me a few extra days or if it was set out to be from the start, I do not know, but when my father came, he descended on me with as much fury as he had attacked my half-brother with. It was plain to me, my time in my birth herd was up. As the dun stallion snaked towards me, my heart desperately pleaded its wish to stay and against my better judgement, I rose up against the larger, older, more experienced stallion. I realized my mistake instantly as our hooves thrashed the air, and threat turned to attack. I tried to back away, to show submission, if I was no threat, surely I could stay, but my father would stop at nothing to defend his herd, and I had grown old enough to be nothing but a threat. It was futile, I turned on my hindquarters, planning to kick out in last protest before I fled, but my father was faster and while my hooves skimmed only air, his teeth dug into my rump. I squealed and darted away, wanted nothing more to do with the confrontation, least I be hurt worse, the wound stung, but the pain would soon fade. My younger brother's whinny was carried to me by the wind but I did not pause to reply, he still had time to grow up in the comfort of the large herd, I would not take this from him.

My first night out alone was terrible, I had never felt so vulnerable. The shadows stretched out threateningly, the winds whistled and the branches bowed and lashed themselves back and forth, hiding any sound and movement from predators. I was too scared to rest least a cougar leap from above or a wolf pack stalk up unseen, so I kept moving, pausing only to whinny and listen for replies. When the fear wasn't eating away at me, the loneliness was, I was driven by the sole need to find myself a herd.

And find another herd I did, but every one I approached, I found the mares in an excited frisk and the stallions in a protective frenzy, I was lucky if I could tag along for more than a few days before the stallions would turn on me. Depending on my desperation I would try and meet their challenge but the end result was always the same, the only variation were the wounds I escaped with. As I traveled I found smaller herds but angrier stallions, away from the relations in my birth herd, I was even more of a threat and fewer and fewer stallions would tolerate my presence. I realized if I were to ever end the loneliness, I must steal away a mare for myself, I only needed one.

My first attempt to steal a mare was with a rich bay dun filly, she was curious and friendly and strode forward to greet me when I appeared before her. I didn't just need her, I wanted her, her scent alone excited me and an aggressiveness I was unfamiliar with over took me as I sprang forwards with teeth bared to drive her from her herd. The filly jumped away in a flash and galloped off and I spun around quickly after her, all I had to do was prevent her from turning back to the herd and she would be mine. The filly did not share my excitement for her, and lashed out when I got too close, spinning to get back to her herd, I tried to stop her but could not risk hurting her so found myself forced to drop back and watch her zip back towards her small band.

I tried to follow for another attempt but she was just too fast and suddenly, the lead stallion was bearing down on me. Even as I turned to gallop away, he would not quit the chase, so great was his hanging. He nipped at my side, teeth cutting into flank. I skidded to a stop, tried to throw him off my tail by spinning and kicking, but his heels were faster, thudding against my shoulder and chest. I backed off hurriedly and whinnied desperately to the bay dun filly, she responded pleasantly enough but her intentions were clear, she wanted to stay with her own family and I had no choice but to return to loneliness until my wounds healed.


	2. Bachelor Herd

Chapter Two: Bachelor Herd

I tracked the herd with the bay dun filly for several days, and while the filly gradually warmed to me, the stallion was fully alert to my presence and would not allow me close. Our last confrontation had left me with a deep bite on my side and a swollen knee. I could not keep up with the herd with my stiffened leg, and it was becoming clear, I had no chance of getting past the older stallion. I would need to find a herd with a younger, less experienced stallion if I wanted a chance. I was sad to leave the friendly filly behind, the days spent tracking had gotten my hopes up, but without the chance to convince her to leave her, it was clear it was not to be.

I set out to find another herd, dozing rarely, the constant movement was hard on my beaten muscles and joints but the pain was manageable and would fade with time. My luck changed when I came across a river, it had carved out a deep valley further along, but here, it pooled out in a wide opening and the current slowed. At first I just drank, but the cool water was soothing and the current just weak enough and the bottom sandy enough that I could wade out a little bit further. I stood there for some time in a daze brought on by the days of sleepiness and stress. The river water was soothing and I could tell by leftovers on the river bank that other herds stopped by here regularly. There was a chance I could find myself a new herd without even moving.

Horses did come, startling me from my stupor, I scuttled from the river water and whinnied to them with friendly intentions. They stopped for a moment, taking me in, then advanced with pricked ears and I suddenly found myself surrounded by curious noses. I squealed and struck out, sending them back a step, but not wanting to lose a chance of friendship, quickly greeted them, snorting at the hairy muzzles being prodded in my direction.

Each one of them was a stallion, and without mares to defend, they were friendly and with introductions over, easily allowed me into their ranks. Each of them were fairly young, stallions that had been driven from their birth herd or had had their mares stolen by a stronger, faster horse. They had joined together, driven by their own loneliness and need for the comfort and warmth of a herd. In this factor, we were all the same, our only difference was the range of scars that pitted our coats, the oldest had the most scars, the silliest, had the deepest.

I quickly got to know each stallion individually, there were four of them. The first and by far the friendliest was a small, smutty brown and as stupid as he was brave. He would stalk up to any lead stallion he saw and mock them until the stallion was enraged enough to rise to the challenge. The only thing the small bay had on his side was his speed, and what use was that to him was he was set on picking a fight. He didn't seem interested in finding a mare for himself, just on teasing the stallions, maybe he hoped to find one that would let him tag along without taking over.

The next two were dark bay and a solid pair, two brothers that had left the same herd at a similar time. It seem clear to me, that it would not be long before they found a herd of their own, for what stallion would have a chance against a tag team such as theirs. Yet the idea to challenge a lead stallion in tandem clearly never occurred to them, the more boisterous brother always taking on the fights, while the calmer stood back and watched.

The last was the oldest of the band and I got along with him the best. A sleek grullo, he came from the same place as me, and while there was no way to confirm it, possibly the same herd. It was the grullo I would groom with, stand next to as the shadows stretched out and predators started to roam. It took a few days for me to relax completely, but the feeling of being with other horses again was instantly soothing against the constant plague of fear.

The days were warming and the rains were coming less and less, we grew fat on the new grass and energy buzzed through us. The smallest wind, or slightest tickle of a scent, be it familiar or not, would send us scampering off in an excited frenzy, and if one horse took it upon himself to stretch out in a gallop, the entire small band would follow. So it was, when we were not eating or dozing, we played, just as if we were silly colts back in our birth herd again. The play did more than just curb our energy, we practiced fighting, of perfecting our challenges and threat displays. If we could make the lead stallions believe we were tougher then we really were, we had a chance of getting ourselves a mare and avoiding a fight altogether.

I spent a happy summer in that herd, we would watch other herds pass us by with leggy foals but felt no desire to confront them. Come winter, we huddled together against the cold, the paths to the water ways grew thick with cold mud, as did the natural alcoves we chose to shelter by. Our hooves could stand up to it, and as the snows started to come in and bank up, the grullo quietly led off in search of higher ground, away from mud and sleet. In the open, the white cold pelted us and we struggled to dig for grass, it was a hard winter for all horses on the range that year. Us young stallions all pulled through, but many older horses did not make it.

As winter started to fade and rich grass break through, the excited frenzy fell back upon us. Suddenly, the sight of mares was riveting again, we had forgotten our desire to have a herd of mares of our own, but now it was all we wanted. Our play fighting grew more aggressive, we were young and recovered quickly from the harsh winter, but many older stallions were still in poor condition. It was our chance and so, when I caught evidence of another herd not far away, I split from the little band and my grulllo friend to investigate. I knew each one of their scents by now, I was confident I could find them again if my little journey failed.


	3. Lead Mare

Chapter Three: Lead Mare

The herd I found was not what I expected, the group of at least 7 mares, none of which looked particularly healthy, but most obvious was that it was a mare, not a stallion that strode out to meet me. The mare was a pale, creamy dun, small and sturdy, she was very pretty, even with her ears set flat and teeth bared. She seemed set on ripping my throat out but I, having no intention of fighting a mare, scampered back from her, only sending a half-hearted warning kick in her direction. I caught wind of the stallion and trumpeted to him, wanting a challenge, not a cranky, defensive mare.

The stallion looked up and I knew instantly something was wrong, his ribs were painfully obvious and he lumbered towards us with a shambling walk, overstepping, as if he felt the extra effort of swinging his long legs out was easier than simply breaking into trot. His eyes were dull and he sniffed me before catching on to my intent and dropping his head in a snake. I smelt from him, a terrible rotting scent, as he opened his mouth to threaten a bite, I saw the cause, his right cheek was swollen and oozing with a thick white paste. I drew back cautiously, it was not the hard winter that was killing this stallion.

The stallion could barely left himself up to kick or rear, and he knew and well as I, he had no chance against me, but his pride would not let him leave his mares without a fight. He ducked past me, to deliver a bite, but his rotting mouth barely had the strength to break my skin and I spun, kicking out and striking him in the jaw. The stallion shot back, eyes rolling, his pain must have been immense but he wasn't about to give me an easy win. He was dying, backed into a corner and had nothing to lose.

With obvious effort he reared up in retaliation, and I easily lifted myself up to meet his challenge, our failing hooves scraped shoulders and my head instinctively snaked forward, teeth hitting their mark, and digging into his neck. As we came down, he backed away, tossing his head a few times. I paused, unsure how to respond to the stallion, either to try and chase him off or wait for him to move to attack again. But the stallion had lost the fight the moment I had appeared to challenge him and did not advance again, just dipped his head. I was confused by his body language then, but it was a look I would become all too familiar with later on. This was a horse that had given up on life.

I turned around, back to the mares, and after a brief introduction, rounded them up, leaving the stallion who was for most of them a father or a mate behind. I paused once to look behind, but the stallion did not move or look after his soon to disappear herd. If he was lucky, a cougar would make short work of him, less lucky, a wolf pack would tear him apart. To me, back then, there was no fate that was worse. I had seen so little of the world.

I quickly forgot about the stallion, as my new herd kept me busy. I quickly moved them away from the direction I knew my old bachelor herd was in, not wanting to risk a challenge with another stallion so soon after victory. Most of the mares where friendly and accepting of me, they weren't too bothered by having a new stallion in their midst, the affairs of stallions wasn't of great interest to them. It was the creamy dun mare they listened too, it was her job to make sure they all survived, unfortunately for me. The lead mare did not fancy me, and every time I approached her, she would attack me with bared teeth and sharply aimed kicks.

Despite the creamy dun's dislike of me, I soon came to appreciate her wisdom and ability to keep the herd in check. I had never before seen a mare so ruthlessly dominant, but she was smart and knew all the best places to graze and find water. On the edge of the herd, the watchers, the skittish mares kept a constant eye out for danger, and the safety their attentiveness brought was calming, my only concern was coming across a lone stallion. If I heard the watchers call out, I would head out to check a threat and if I saw one, would head the herd off, away from it.

It was fortunate for me, the pale dun mare did not argue when I tried to head the herd off, simply pulling herself up in the lead, she would allow me to bring up and protect the herd from behind. When spring started to settle back into summer, she warmed up enough to allow me to approach her, I was pleased by her acceptance of me, it felt like I had finally be integrated into the herd. The mares around me were now mine, and I would fight to protect them.

It wasn't long after the pale dun started to warm to me that my first hint of trouble started. The mare had been grazing peacefully when she suddenly jerked her head up and tensed. I and all the nearby horses were instantly on alert. I glanced over at the watchers and saw they too, were tense but not why. The pale dun offered me a low nicker which the other mares took up, crowding together to get closer to their leader, the lead mare backed out of the frenzy and struck out, the others quickly stretching out behind, and I brought up the rear. I did not know why we were running, only that it was deliberate and trusted that the pale dun knew what she was doing.

The pale dun mare brought the herd to a barren canyon and I was confused as to why she would lead us here. I hung back watchfully, the mares were tense enough that they did not need my encouragement to stay together and I was all too aware that at the back of the herd like this, there was no one to watch my own back. The rocky cliff faces began to tower above us, and the path we were taking narrowed, a let the mares know that nothing was chasing us so they would relax and not scrape each other up on the rocky walls as they scrambled along the narrow path. When the path widened out enough for the herd to stand side by side again, I stopped to investigate the place.

The pale dun had led us to what could only be considered as a dead end, enclosed on three sides by massive rocks walls that only the likes of a nimble goat could hope to scale, but not us horses. It was, too say the least, very sheltered, but the weather had not been harsh as of late and the sky was currently clear, so that could not be the reason for the dun mare to lead us here. I surveyed the herd, seeing their tension and could tell they were all highly uncomfortable with the enclosed space, but the dun mare stood firm, head titled up in an attempt to watch the sky. Some members of the herd suddenly made a break for the narrow path out, and the mare proved her watchfulness by lunging across to chase them back into line. I left the lead mare to remind the herd of her own dominance and keep a watchful vigil, trying to work out what is was that had disturbed her and caused her to lead us here.

* * *

><p><strong>If this was set back in Spirit's time, the herd would have just taken themselves to the perfect place to be captured. However, after some debate, I've decided this is set several years after Spirit's story took place.<strong>


	4. The First Muster

Chapter Four: The First Muster

It wasn't long before the uneasiness of the mares spread to me, I was unsure of the pale dun mare's intentions. If she had just led the herd into certain danger, she would lose the trust and respect of the other mares, but she appeared confident and determined to keep up in the enclosed space. I tried to play along, to soothe the tension amongst my mares, between my calmness and the lead mare's aggressive defense of the path out, we kept the herd quiet and in check.

I walked over to her, questioning, but she was riled up and treated me with the same irritation as she was with the other mares. She was certain that this place was safe and we had to stay here, but it was clear to me, that this could not last. The mares were thirsty after their gallop and there was no grazing to be had in the rocky canyon, I did not want to undermine the pale dun's authority so soon after gaining her acceptance but something would have to give.

That something came with a loud thrumming, it started in the distance but gradually came close, the very air I breathed suddenly felt threatening, the sound shuddered deep through us and around the canyon. Something huge was coming and we were trapped, I wheeled around, quickly driving my mares for the exit. I saw the pale dun mare rear up in protest, but I and the herd were all too eager to leave and she was outnumbered. She looked at me once before leaving the canyon, ears flat and eyes rolling, then she took off, after her mares, driven to lead them, wherever that was. The canyon echoed loudly with our thundering hooves but it was nothing compared to the thundering sky.

Even as we reached the familiar grassy plains, I discovered we could not relax. Swooping down on us from the sky, a massive creature descended, and from it came the terrible thunder, so loud it drowned out all thought. I only knew we must get away, for nothing good could possibly come from such a creature. It hung above us, as if waiting to strike and no matter how hard and fast we desperately galloped, we could not outrun it.

Fear and adrenaline coursed through my body, this was the terrible thing the dun mare had wanted to hide from. It had never occurred to me that danger could come from the sky, I had never seen a creature so large or terrifying, suddenly the dun mare's desperation to stay hidden made sense. Our greatest defense, our speed was useless, I could see my mares were started to struggle, their thick coats matted and dripping with sweat.

The dun mare dived down, taking us through a small valley, the creature swooping low and angry above. Terrified we leaped through the river at the bottom, steam came up in great clouds as we kicked freezing water against overheated bodies. One of the younger mares stumbled, and I slowed my own frantic gallop to urge her along, I couldn't give up the hope we could outrun the creature, right now, we were still alive and that had to mean something. The young mare shifted and I saw the deep crack running up her front hoof, blood running from the middle. I had to bite her hard to get her to run on it, wounds could heal as long as you lived, it didn't matter how much it hurt in the mean time.

Something strange appeared in front of us, rising out of the ground, an accumulation of things I could not begin to fathom, if I was not running for my life, I would have been curious enough to investigate. As it was, when the pale dun made a desperate dive to veer the herd away from the strange objects, I did my best to support her, but the thundering creature swopped low, diving in front and we quickly changed paths. Least we run right into the waiting jaws of a monster, I did not know then, that by veering away from the creature and allowing ourselves to be driven forward, we galloped right into the jaws of another monster all together.

The nightmare had started and there was no end to it in sight.


End file.
